The first strike came faster than thought.
A sharp hiss split the air as the assassin's shadow blade slashed toward Leon's throat — silent, precise, and cold.
But Leon wasn't the type to die pretty.
With a single tilt of his head, the blade missed by less than an inch, slicing through strands of his silver hair instead.
His smirk didn't even flinch.
"You're late, sweetheart," he muttered lazily. "I was starting to think the Guild forgot about me."
Aria moved before the assassin could react — her body a blur of grace and violence.
Her blade, Velrosa's Fang, carved an arc through the air, colliding with the shadow blade in a violent spark shower.
The masked assassin staggered back, but Aria didn't give him a chance to breathe.
Her movements were elegant, almost erotic, dancing through the air with a twisted grace that made the blood splatter look like part of the choreography.
Her dress fluttered around her like a pair of torn angel wings, soaked and stained with the life essence of past victims.
Leon, leaning against the rooftop wall, lit another cigarette. His eyes followed the scene like a man watching his lover perform on stage.
"You're making quite the mess, doll."
Aria's voice came between her attacks — melodic and disturbingly affectionate.
"A little mess... keeps the world interesting, doesn't it, my darling?"
The assassin, realizing brute force wouldn't save him, released a pulse of shadow magic. The rooftops around them twisted and decayed, the city itself shivering under the weight of the dark energy.
His voice, still mechanical and hollow, echoed across the air:
"You can't outrun the Guild. You both signed the contract the moment you lived."
Leon's cigarette snapped between his teeth, his hand moving lazily to the handle of his pistol — a cursed revolver known as "Widow's Whisper."
"Guess I'll have to file a complaint."
The sound of the gunshot wasn't loud.
It was elegant, like the last note of a love song.
And the bullet wasn't ordinary — it curved, danced, and kissed its target like a lover's farewell.
The assassin's head exploded in silence, his body folding like a puppet cut from its strings.
Silence returned. Except for the faint rustle of Aria's steps as she approached Leon, her dress dripping blood, her lips curled into a satisfied sigh.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft, blood-scented body against his.
"You're mine," she whispered into his ear, her voice trembling with affection. "Forever."
Leon let out a dry laugh, his fingers brushing the back of her head, tangling in her silky white hair.
"You keep saying that," he replied, "but you haven't tattooed your name on me yet."
Aria tilted her head, her smile widening in that way that meant trouble.
"Give me a knife, and I'll carve it right now."
Leon snorted, pulling her closer.
"Maybe later. Let's finish breakfast first."
She leaned in, biting his lower lip just hard enough to draw blood.
"Blood... always tastes better than coffee."
The sun finally broke through the smog-filled sky, but its warmth never reached them.
Not when the city's underworld had already set its sights on them both.
And somewhere, deep beneath the earth, the Guild wrote a new name on their kill-list:
Leon Valenheart — Dead Man Walking.
Aria Velrosa — Demon's Bride.
The game had only begun.